


Before the Storm

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, certain backstories haven't changed, so rape and child abuse are mentioned and discussed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He had envisioned spending his next trip to port with an attractive blond. </p><p>This wasn’t how he imagined it going at all."</p><p>Captain Damen has been played. What he anticipated to be a simple hostage negotiation has turned into a whirlpool of politics that threatens to drag him far out of his depth. Now he must form some sort of alliance with his siren of a hostage, for only together do they have any hope of enduring the oncoming storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“When I planned for my imminent capture, I did not expect those involved to be quite this _abysmal_.”

Damen leant his head on his open palm as he took a swig from the second bottle of the night. He could let his captive rant on and vent his frustrations. Or he could shut down any criticism of his hard-working crew, mentioning that good men had died to get this critic on board. They had been played like a tavern fiddle, too fast and too expertly.  Now they were embroiled in what could only be called a political brawl. With an heir taken hostage and only a smug silence in response to their demands, they had sailed straight into this storm blind. Now he had to deal with the bitter consequences.

“Common belief would have it that pirates spend their nights drinking swill and fucking the helpless,” his prisoner continued, “Is this a mere attempt at intimidation or has your store of ravished children simply been hidden from me?”

Damen put his bottle down on the table with an unnecessary amount of force. The other bottles jangled and threatened to spill.

“We do not bed children,” he declared, gaze fixed on that infuriating pretty face, “Neither would I or any of my crew take someone without their consent. I would take a sword to any man who tried.”

“Oh yes. You’re _honourable_ pirates.”

A long strand of golden hair was swept behind one ear in a gesture so dismissive that Damen found the very motion insulting. However he knew the pointlessness of debating matters of honour with the son of a man who had claimed ownership of every bit of land he’d fancied regardless of the hundreds of people already living there.  However it was proving very difficult not to give this arrogant brat a scolding or two.

“Yet you’ve let your men go ashore without your supervision, how many will-“

“Another word about my men and the gag is going back on.” Anger had forced a slight growl into Damen’s voice. He trusted his men explicitly and both they and their prisoner knew that. He deeply regretted not being able to go ashore with them. However someone needed to guard their silver-tongued hostage and only he and his quartermaster seemed to recognise this siren for the danger he was.  After all his hard work, Nikandros deserved his night of revelry on dry land. So it was Damen who had to sit there whilst their captive spat ice and venom. He had envisioned spending his next trip to port with an attractive blond. This wasn’t how he imagined it going at all.

Their usual targets were merchant vessels taking produce to and from the colonies. They would then sell the goods onto more honest traders for just enough for them to live comfortably on. They rarely took people as cargo.  Which was why, at first, Damen was hesitant to act on a sensational piece of news that had reached his sources some months ago. The news concerned heir to the Vere Estates - the western most colonies which had dominated the trade routes for quite some time. He would be sailing in a small merchant vessel from the safety of his homeland to the land he would be inheriting. It would be a perilous journey even if undertaken in the utmost secrecy.  The seas would be perilous to an inexperienced crew and according to his informant, the heir’s men were just that. They were soldiers used to naval drills rather than conquering the open seas. Under any other circumstances, Damen would have decreed venturing into the promised storm an act of madness. However this was the Vere family, opulent parasites who wished to colour the maps with their heraldry. If it took kidnapping their heir to put a dent in that family’s influence, so be it.

They had cornered the little ship when it had been forced to steer towards calmer waters. Damen had anticipated this and the following battle was quick and simple. When they boarded they had been greeted by an angry blond ‘merchant’ demanding by what authority had they boarded this unaligned merchant ship. At first Damen had a little taken aback. The heir was looked like he had only passed through the cusp of manhood, with a delicacy in his features not weathered by sea or toil. He was beautiful in the same way as the storm that raged around them. Brilliant, pale and as dangerous as the lightning, Damen took no chances. On the open seas you didn’t simply carry a sword for show.

“Take his weapon and take him below decks.”

The heir had protested, producing some ridiculous excuse about _who did they think he was_. He claimed to be a renowned cloth merchant named Charls, that they were disrupting his progress towards an important deal. Damen had actually laughed at that. He was well aware of Charls. They received a nice little settlement from him every few months to stay away from his vessels. He gestured for the men to take him down. The surviving guards and staff were rounded up, bound and followed in their employer’s wake.

It wasn’t until they searched the merchant vessel that Damen started to feel something was amiss. The ship was poorly equipped. Enough food to last them to the colonies but their fresh water supply was dangerously minimal. The ship itself had seen better days. The supplies were barely worth stealing from unless you wanted rotten rope or scraps of timber. As his crew arranged what little finery they had found, Damen turned his attention to the state of the heir’s men. It was a small crew, the guards must have done must of the work best left to practiced sailors. Alongside them worked a cook, a doctor and two young men who had been left bloodied and undistinguishable. He found their bodies amongst the crew’s hammocks. They had been dead longer than his crew had been here, the blood stains already dry. Murder? Mutiny? Regardless of his own intervention, Damen could see this ship was doomed to fail.   So why had the Vere family ever let their heir board? There had to be a mistake.

They kept Laurent apart from his men. He spent the first week snapping at those that came to give him food and water. When Damen came for answers about the poor state of Laurent’s ship, he was barraged with accusations of rape and how many men Damen intended to give him to.  Damen had denied it all even if he had to raise his voice at the blond to prove his point. No one was being raped or tortured. He had no plans to touch a single hair on that golden head. He said so quite plainly. Laurent clearly believed none of it. He suggested Laurent sit tight and see if pirates were truly the monsters he believed they were.  He might change his mind.

 “Tell that to my brother, if the tide ever washes up his corpse.”

 The next time they were at port they sent fast messengers to the Vere Estates with ransom demands. No response. Their point of contact Laurent’s uncle, who represented him until he was old enough to inherit his father’s property. It would be who Laurent would have met upon a successful voyage. His uncle must have realised by now that Laurent had failed to show. A few weeks passed and they were forced to set sail. They turned the guards loose with enough money to travel by land to the nearest Vere Estate, a message with each man. The cook left but the doctor insisted on staying. Paschal offered his services in return for being able to routinely check on the state of Laurent. His loyalty was admirable so Damen allowed it. Here he remained, the men having grown to respect him for his expertise. Damen has asked him how well he knew the family and why the uncle would take so long to save his nephew. He took the vague nature of Paschal’s answers as a sign that the doctor didn’t know.

“You won’t gag me.”

Damen was roused from his thoughts by Laurent’s arrogant tone. He still had pink streaks upon his cheeks from where the gag had pressed too tightly. Despite the marks, he still managed to look as haughty and indifferent as he had for the last month or so. Snappy rage had long faded into cool indifference. Damen wasn’t sure which he preferred.

“Oh really?” he replied, “Why wouldn’t I? You’re far less insufferable when silent.”

Laurent took insults with the same grace with which he dealt them. He trailed his fingertips across the marks on his cheeks, a wince just perceptible as he touched the raw skin there.

“You swore you would never hurt me. Placing the gag back on would do just that.”

He had a point but he wasn’t done yet.

“Besides you want to hear what I have to say.”

He wanted to? Damen raised an eyebrow at him as Laurent leant back in his chair as if he had just made irrefutable argument. The smugness was incendiary and Damen couldn’t help himself

 “I guess that depends,” Damen retorted, also learning back in his chair, “Do you actually have anything valuable to say? Or are you just going to keep insulting me so you can feel a little less helpless than you actually are?”

He may have been imagining it but he thought he saw a flicker of surprise pass through that icy blue gaze. If he was surprised that Damen had read him, Laurent did not let it show. He casually toyed with the ropes that had already marred the soft skin of his wrists and looked Damen in the eye.

“My uncle has his gaze set on expanding the family’s farming operations. Before I set out on my voyage, it came to my attention that he had found an area for perfect for this enterprise. It’s a little further south from the family’s usual operations but it’s incredibly warm weather and fertile conditions make it highly desirable territory. According to visitors my uncle sent, the land is ripe with orchards, apricots in particular. The current owner of the land seems to be some sort of local aristocracy named Kast-”

The glass bottles clattered the ground, their contents leaving dark patches upon the rug. Damen had stood up too fast, knocking the table in the process. He’d felt trepidation at the thought of the Vere estates extending even further south. The mention of orchards and apricots had him on the edge of his seat. Finally to hear Kastor’s name come amongst such cold indifference to … He swiftly rose as if seeking an opponent to fight, a way to beat back Vere from his homeland right this instant.

Laurent merely seemed amused. Somehow he’d known. How had he known? Damen could not fathom the workings of that cruel mind of his. If he’d known why hadn’t he used this as a weapon on their first meeting? Why hadn’t he used it to secure good treatment? Why had he waited so long to turn everything on its head and make this so unquestionably personal? What else did he know?

“Tell me everything,” Damen ordered. Laurent merely smiled and offered his bound wrists to the agitated Captain.

Damen went to fetch a knife.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damen shares some of Laurent's information with his men. Laurent meanwhile secures his own safety on board.

 

The look Nikandros gave him the next morning was extraordinarily judging. Considering Nikandros was the master of condemning stares, his quartermaster clearly thought he’d fucked up on a much grander scale than usual. Damen had been helping his crew haul fresh supplies on board when Nikandros had accosted him.

“Why is the hostage running loose?”

The fact he’d left ‘Captain’ off his inquiry was telling. Damen’s gaze met his before it travelled up to where their hostage now stood, leaning against a pile of crates and surveying the labouring men with an almost imperious air. The strong sea wind had left Laurent’s face with a permanent blush, pink and still a little raw were the gag had bit.  The price of his information had been partial freedom and, inexplicably, one of Damen’s shirts. It was so big for him, he looked like a ghost. White fabric billowed about him with each gust of wind. Golden and pale, he looked out of place on the ship. He would most likely be thought something strange by the local townspeople. Laurent turned and noticed them watching. He crossed his arms and his hands were lost in the sleeves. He smirked. Damen changed his mind about the ethereal nature of their prisoner. Laurent looked like a child wearing one of his mother’s bedsheets.

Nikandros cleared his throat, loudly.

“Let me just-“ Damen deposited his barrel beside the others and turned to his friend, narrowly missing a procession of crewmen with sacks who were making their way below deck. Laurent was no longer watching, gaze fixed on the churning tides. He had made no move to escape. That would be impossible with so much of the crew about.

“The hostage isn’t going anywhere,” Damen began, turning his attention fully to his impatient right-hand, “I just had to grant him some small freedoms to hear what he knows.”

“What he knows?” Nikandros repeated, “You mean something comes out of that mouth other than obscenities?”

“As soon as we’re stocked up, I’m calling a meeting,” Damen said, “Yes, the hostage is going to be there. However he has to be. I don’t believe he’s told me everything but what he has said…”

Damen gave a quick look about to see if anyone was eavesdropping.

“It concerns home, and Kastor, he knows who we are.”

“How?”  Nikandros’ rage had faded into a dull sense of shock. It was clear that the news brought the same urge for action as it did in Damen. Nikandros’ hands balled into fists even if he did not know the true danger they faced. However to combine two faces he despised, Kastor’s and the hostage’s, warranted retaliation. Damen raised a cautionary hand.

“I don’t know, he gives up information when and if he wants to, but we’ve got enough to be worried about for now. He knows too much about the workings at Ios to be making this news up.”

Nikandros didn’t look convinced but there was no time for lengthy explanation now. There was work to be done and all hands were needed to stock up for another month or so at sea. With the Captain working as hard as his crew there was very little grumbling.  Every man had a morning of hard labour ahead of him. Well everyone except Laurent, who merely sat by and watched. This didn’t earn him any favours. However there was nothing Damen could do about it. Keeping their hostage happy was the only way information would flow. He had no choice but to anticipate the next time Laurent would make use of that advantage.

When all was aboard, Damen called his meeting. He made sure every man of importance attended no matter how much they groaned for a break or a quick drink. By the time Nikandros had arrived with a few stragglers, it proved difficult to get everyone a clear view of the charts. With each new arrival, the presence of Laurent had caused a bit of stir. Damen attempted to lead by example by saying nothing about their prisoner’s presence. However there were many glares at the intruder and more than enough glances between Laurent and Damen. Before that progressed to mutters or complaints, Damen began.

“The Vere Family are attempting to take ownership of Akielos. And they expect Kastor to just hand it over.”

Now all the attention was on him.

“We’ve seen what happened to other regions. We’ve seen names changed, flags erected, people punished for practicing their own cultures. It starts with smiles and fair trade and ends up with the foreigners in question adding to the map another piece of land they call theirs. We cannot let this happen to our home.”

“What do they want with Akielos?” asked Makedon. He leant heavily on the table after a night of over-indulgence. He wasn’t the only one. It had occurred to Damen he might be talking to slower wits than usual today.

“Fertile land,” he replied, “The Vere Family wants a warmer climate to grow the commodities their countrymen will turn out their pockets for. Tobacco, sugar, cotton... they’ll plant what they can’t grow up north. They’ll root up the orchards and no doubt set Akielons to work for their gain.”

“And I assume you learnt this all from-“ Nikandros’ gaze strayed.

“From me,” Laurent finished, “You would expect such knowledge from the heir to the family in question. Well not if my uncle were to have his way. It was however fortunate that I found some pirates with morals.” He made an act of inspecting his nails, appearing nonchalant and uncaring at the potential plight of his captors’ homeland.  Damen audibly sighed. Did he have to antagonise everyone as soon as he opened his mouth? Knowing Laurent, yes.

“His uncle is the one manoeuvring all this,” Damen swiftly took back the floor, “As the present head of the Vere family, he approached Kastor six years ago and there has been easy trade since to build up relationships. In exchange for our exports, which apparently consist of dried fruit, furniture and ceramics, the Vere family have been providing Kastor with foreign luxuries to keep him living luxuriously. Laurent’s spies within Akielos report that his uncle has been keeping Kastor in good supply of wine, spirits, textiles, sweets and…silk dresses.”

He had paused. He knew exactly who would wish to clad themselves out in the fashions of far off noblewomen. So did everyone else here. The name hung like smoke in the air. Damen refused to let himself choke on it.

“And what’s to say this isn’t good honest trade,” said Makedon, “Why should we believe a Vere whatever his motives? Best to keep our noses out of a nest of spies and foreigners.” He spat the last words as if both were equally duplicitous.

“Because I know my own uncle better than all of you,” Laurent replied simply, “And I am equally motivated to keep Akielos out of his hands.”

That was new. There was a murmur of interest round the table. Laurent’s lips twitched in pleasure.

“As you should have guessed, my uncle is trying to steal my inheritance from me. He has never been a leader, the younger brother to my father, he was steward to his households and resented it immensely. I am too young to claim my inheritance as yet so he has been ‘managing’ the estates in my stead. He has no desire to give up this power.”

Laurent sat back in the chair he had dragged closer to the table of charts.  The chair was usually Nikandros’ but the quartermaster was saying nothing.

“However I have my own means to investigate his activities, as you’ve heard.  Going through his books enlightened us to the loss he was making during his trades with Akielos. The ceramics, the fruit, the furniture, are worth a pittance compared to the level of luxury my uncle is shelling out to butter up his ‘partner’. I imagine Kastor must think he is very clever in this deal. Or he has the mental capacity of a pack mule.  You must to think this was a fair trading with no other motivations.”

Damen’s thoughts railed against the insult to his half-brother but could not voice his objections. All the information of today and yesterday pointed towards one conclusion. Kastor was being played to an even greater extent than they were and the culprit was most definitely this uncle.

“My uncle,” Laurent continued, “Has been back and forth to Akielos many times since Kastor’s rise to authority. He spends most of his time in the colonies since people began to vocalise their objection to his…questionable tastes at home.  With each visit, Kastor has bestowed on him some sort of honour, what started with mundane gifting has extended to the ownership of houses, acres, and when Kastor sees how much profit my uncle makes from that land, the more eager he is to give him more.”

“So when your uncle finally wants to buy the region,” Damen stated, “He’ll offer to keep Kastor in good stead whilst he makes money off Akielos in its entirety?”

“Of course. Then, when it is all done and sealed, he’ll cut Kastor out completely.” Laurent finished, “Of course. It is a tactic he has used before to great effect. The last person he swindled had an unfortunate fall from the balcony of his new manor.”

He sounded like he didn’t care in the slightest.

There were mutters round the table about foreigners and their treachery. However there were more than enough disgusted murmurs about Kastor and his greed. Not a man had here had forgotten the series of events that had forced them far out to sea. Part of Damen still railed disbelieving against the idea Kastor would betray him like that. Then proceed to sell out their home to the likes of some ambitious invader. However every time he received news at port, every time he lay awake thinking about what had undeniably been done, it became a little more believable. He hated that.

“So if we stop your uncle,” said Nikandros, filling in Damen’s silence with his usual efficiency, “What’s to stop you from doing the exact same thing? Won’t you want to profit from Akielos?”

“Of course not,” said Laurent, “We have no need to expand our territory at all. We have enough to make a continuously staggering profit, to go further is pure greed. All I want right now is to put my uncle in his place. Preferably in a prison cell, or a hangman’s noose.”

It was a deceptively simple sounding arrangement. They both needed to stop this uncle for the sake of Akielos and Laurent’s future. However the Vere Family had a lot of money and a lot of estates. Their target could be anywhere with any number of means of contacting Kastor. He could even be in Akielos right now. They only knew where he wouldn’t be.

“You said your uncle had to leave home because there were objections,” Damen commented, “The sort that would get him arrested?”

For a moment Laurent didn’t look quite so smug.

“If people came forward with the evidence yes, but no one will,” he replied, “I have considered forcing him to return and face justice, but that would only go in his favour.”

“Why wouldn’t anyone give evidence?” asked Damen. Were they too afraid?

Laurent said nothing on the matter and merely continued.

“The only hope _, our_ only hope, is to ascertain the current state of affairs between my uncle and Kastor. I am out of touch because of the months I have spent in present company but my spies are still in place. Then, when we know, we disrupt them to the best of our ability. Sow the seeds of mistrust, destroy the relationship. Make sure there is no exchange of furniture and silk dresses, in short _, enact piracy_.”

More murmuring. The plan would have been fleshed out in a great deal more detail but the premise was sound. Kastor may be treacherous and perhaps was trying to sell out his own home, but he wasn’t stupid. They simply had to make him lose faith in the Vere family. Also if they could expose the attempt at manipulation, that could work in their favour.

“If we stay at port a little longer, I should be able to make contact with my spies,” said Laurent, “If that Captain allows that of course.”

His polite dip of the head could have been mistaken as a respectful gesture. Damen found it patronising. There were enthusiastic nods round the table. Of course everyone would prefer to stay a little longer when there was fresh food and drink on tap on offer. New respect for Laurent was kindling.

“You have a week, more if the outlook is promising” said Damen, wrestling the attention back to himself, “However I am to view any communications you may write and witness any conversations you may have. We will also be using this time to get the ship in order whilst we have access to supplies.”

Slight groans followed his orders. This wasn’t going to be a week’s holiday, it was a chance to be made the most of.

“We also need to get access to records of ships passing to and from Akielos,” Damen continued, “If we can ascertain which belong to the Vere family we can familiarise ourselves with their routes and how they are best intercepted. Makedon, are you still on good terms with the harbour master here?”

“I’m sure I can loosen his tongue the good old fashioned way,” chortled Makedon.

“For now I want the entire ship inventoried and checked for wear, get the carpenter on hand to check anything structural whilst we have the means to make changes. You know the rest. For now, you’re dismissed.”

This was the usual indication that if Damen wanted to talk to anyone in particular, he’d do it privately. After checking if they had the Captain’s attention on them, everyone filed out. Out of the corner of his eye, Damen saw Laurent rise from his chair however he was quickly distracted by the fact Nikandros had gone nowhere.

“We need to talk,” said the quartermaster. He took his now vacated seat. Damen dragged a chair closer and sat likewise.

“What’s troubling you?”

“The Vere,” said Nikandros bluntly, “He carried the important parts of that meeting not you. Whilst he had the information first hand, he still has far too much power. Over you in particular, the men are full of rumours this morning.”

“What sort of rumours?” asked Damen dismissively. Men talked. It was usually a load of rubbish, though sometimes it could be quite flattering. He did not have nearly as many tattoos as the men thought he did.

“That you’re fucking him,” Nikandros replied. His crude language meant to shock and it had the desired effect. Damen sat a little more upright in his chair.

“Who gave them that idea?” The idea was bedding Laurent was so abhorrent that of all the wild accusations thrown at him over the years, this seemed the most startling.

“Everyone knows your type,” Nikandros retorted, “Blond, fair, cruel, and far too clever for the good of anyone. They remember Jokaste.”

Damen remembered Jokaste vividly, however that meant he was less likely to want to repeat the experience, not run towards it.

“I’ve learned from that,” he said quickly.

Nikandros raised an eyebrow at him.

“I have,” Damen protested.

“He’s wearing one of your shirts, what do you think the crew are going to believe?”

Damen groaned. Of course. He had thought Laurent’s request for a shirt had been odd but now it made sense with a disturbing clarity.  The crew never wanted to upset the Captain. If it looked like someone was currently in the Captain’s bed, and therefore had a direct means of reporting back to the Captain, no one was going to bother them. By securing one of Damen’s shirts, it looked like Laurent had climbed out of his bed with a trophy. He had no way of disproving this because they had been alone together last night with no company. Damen wanted a drink.

“I’ve seen the way you watch him,” said Nikandros, “He’s clever, exotic and as beautiful a blond as you’re probably going to meet anytime soon. However I must warn you, as your friend, please don’t put your-“

“I’m not going to touch him!” Damen objected, “I know he’s beautiful, but I have no intention of bedding someone who keeps accusing me of being a drunkard and a rapist!”

“Good,” said a cold voice in the corner, “Because I would rather throw myself off portside.”

Laurent was still there.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at Captive Prince fanfiction. If you like to see any more of this AU, please let me know. I'll continue if there's any interest.
> 
> Also I'm accepting any and all suggestions for the name of Damen's ship! It currently doesn't have a name and I think it needs one if I'm to continue.


End file.
